091219 07:22
I awoke with a different sense of this time and this day and our future together. An expectation of myself given as gift regardless of those received. Unconditionally spent without reservation; no hesitation.
Looking down at my right hand I am astonished at my profligacy gifting myself with a Turquoise ring of remarkable size set in silver, not expensive, yet I am dressed in splendor while otherwise disheveled. Ashamed at the prospect of presenting myself to anyone save the White Wing Doves I love.
Annie is accustomed to my slovenly attire loving me nonetheless.
Life is a fleeting thing while love is eternal. . . .From beginnings and endings it knows not.
I am finding my voice independent, the should’s and ought’s of yesterday, or years before, from the beginning till now. Where have they gone; those pains, sorrows and confusions?
For a brief moment in my experience I’d occupied the lime light for too few years sacrificed? No. I had no sense of giving anything but my trifling attention to Randy’s life with greater ferocity than any object/subject in Art.
I had ‘sailed’ through Johanna’s birth, life and death and collapsed, deaf, dumb, mute and blind at the advent of Randy’s demise. . . .Both now present--presents discovered.
Looking back, at now, the future seems brilliant with the light of season/reasons all the gifts given me at all times. Now that I am collaborative with The Author of Life who being Love fills me with love unrecognized before-during-after; no end of time since it began before clocks and will end never.
To know such peace in a time of terror is a gift beyond all treasure. You need not read, nor ask, since I give it freely without request and am detached your neglect of either this author, The Author or Yourselves, all nearly, dearly, seen, equal.
Felice Navidad
You are all blessed by God and this humble friend
. . . if I long for anything now it is merely that you know yourselves blest, never damned, either way --xoj
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